


distraction

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Cas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, mild dub!con, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates this day.  The anniversary of Detroit.  Fuck this day.  Luckily Cas is going out of his way to distract Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do an endverse fic for *forever* and I finally got around to it :)
> 
> I'm mentioning that this could be interpreted as dub!con since Dean's high during all the sex stuff, so just in case. I'm not intending it that Cas is deliberately coercing Dean into something he wouldn't want otherwise (maybe more using it as an opportunity when Dean's more *open* to things), but since it could probably be read that way I'll letting you guys know up front. 
> 
> Also thanks to [pecanpiedean](http://pecanpiedean.tumblr.com) for being my official consultant on this fic and answering some questions I had :))))
> 
> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

Calendars aren't so much a thing anymore, but there are still people who keep track.  Somehow.  The passage of time isn't really relevant anymore, not to Dean anyway.  Beyond the essentials like what season it (generally) is or if it's night or day, he couldn't care less.  Somewhere over the years, his priorities shifted.

So he shouldn't really be able to know what day it is today.  It should be another shitty day in his shitty life, completely indistinguishable from any other.

Yeah, so he wakes up a bad mood, but he wakes up every day in a bad mood.  But today people seem on edge when they notice it.  They skirt around him like he's going to bite their heads off, talk to him like they're stepping on eggshells.  The fifth or sixth time it happens, it all comes crashing back to him.  What day it must be for them to act like he's either a porcelain doll about to break or a ticking time bomb about to explode.

Because of all the fucking days, it's _this_  day.  The anniversary of ~~when Sam said yes~~ Detroit.  

Fucking Detroit.

The second he realizes it is the second he snaps.  Goes from mildly annoyed at Chuck's request for him to look over their inventory to outright _furious_  at the looks of pity and apprehension he's getting.  Chuck bears the brunt of Dean's anger, wincing as Dean unleashes a tirade of curses and complaints.  

“I cannot _believe_ you goddamn assholes, can’t hold your shit together for one goddamned day and _leave me the fuck alone_  about this-”

"Dean."

He stops mid-rant and turns his glare to Cas.  (Chuck, smart man that he is, makes use of the distraction and skitters off.)  "You need something?" Dean sneers, all too happy to turn his fury from the ex-prophet to the ex-angel.

Cas smiles at him, all gummy and knowing, and just gestures with his head for Dean to follow.  And then walks towards his cabin, so fucking sure Dean's going to come after him.  So damn _presumptuous_  it makes Dean seethe even more.

It takes all of thirty seconds for him to cave in and stomp after Cas.  Because yeah he might be having an awful day and he might wanna punch something, but it’s still Cas and he still owes him more than he’d care to admit.

In a show of protest, he flings the damn beads aside as he ducks into Cas' cabin.  He hates those damn beads anyway.  The cabin is, for once, empty.  None of Cas’ usual followers poking around for pills or whatever the fuck else.

“What, no orgy?”  It comes out a bit harsher than he might’ve meant it, but oh well.

“Not today.  Why?  Disappointed?”  Cas is in the corner, back to him as he fiddles with something on his dresser.  "Take a seat."

"You gonna tell me what this is about first?  Or am I just supposed to play along until you come down enough to start making sense?"

Ignoring the jab, Cas shrugs but doesn't turn around.  "Nobody can get shit done because you're distracting them."

" _I'm_ distracting _them_ -"

"Yes," he interrupts, looking over his shoulder for a second.  The look in his eyes is equal parts sympathy and amusement.  He goes back to whatever the hell he's playing with and adds, "Sit."

Grudgingly, Dean does.  He sits down stiffly at the edge of Cas' bed.  Sure, he might've agreed to sit but he didn't agree to be comfortable.  "So what're you gonna do, keep me hostage all day?"

"Something like that."  Cas finally comes closer, bare feet moving silently over the wood floor.  His fingers are nimbly rolling together a joint and lighting it with a lighter, some old silver piece of shit that takes three tries before it even sparks.  He takes a hit, sucking in a drag with puckered lips, before he wordlessly hands it over to Dean.

Dean doesn't smoke.  Never has.  He's all for people enjoying their vices (God knows he's done his fair share of drinking and sleeping around), but this isn't one he's ever indulged in.  Funny how his dad would give him _a look_ for stealing a beer, but would bare his teeth menacingly and pointedly flex his muscles while warning Dean he'd better not ever catch him smoking.  It was certainly effective at keeping Dean from daring to so much as _touch_  a cigarette.

He's argued time and time again with Cas about his new _hobbies_.  Scorned and pleaded and demeaned and finally given up trying to talk him out of it. The weed’s just the tip of the iceberg, the thing he let slip by because why not.  But then it was every form of self-medication your run of the mill distopia could offer.    

And this isn't the first time Cas has offered, either.  Far from it.  Dean's said no in every way possible.  At this point out of spite more than anything else.  But it's today and fuck today.  So for the first time, Dean's hand reaches out to accept the joint.

Cas flashes him a huge grin before plopping down on the bed beside him.  He folds his legs underneath him easily and waits, licks his lips in anticipation for Dean to try it.

Which he does.  Tries not to show his apprehension or discomfort (how does he even _do_  this) as he slowly inhales and-

Then he's coughing up a lung, sputtering and gagging and in general feeling like a fucking idiot because Cas didn't have any damn trouble doing this, why does he feel like he's dying?

"No, don't...  Here, let me...  Watch me and try it again, alright?"  There's concerned amusement in his eyes as Cas waits for Dean to settle down.  And then inhales again like it's nothing, no harder than breathing in.  

Dean tries again two more times, never getting the hang of it and wondering why the fuck people even _do_  this, there's nothing pleasant about coughing to the point of suffocation.  

"You are _terrible_ at this," Cas comments sagely and hands Dean a water bottle.  "Calm down and we'll try again."

"Fuck that," he spits out between gasping for air.  This is so damn embarrassing Jesus Christ.  "Shit man, this ain't worth it."

Cas laughs at that.  "I promise you, it _really_  is."  Then his eyes light up and an evil little smile starts playing at the corner of his lips.  "I've got an idea," and he's looking at Dean expectantly.  

Dean rolls his eyes and waves his arms in surrender.   _Sure, whatever._  

"Stay still, okay?"  Cas steals the joint away from Dean and lifts it to his lips.  He inhales deeply, deeper than he had before (now he's just showing off, the asshole).  Then he inches closer, leaning forward and bracing himself on his hands.  

Dean's initial reaction is to flinch away, but he forces himself to stay put as Cas ducks his head in.  It reminds him vaguely of the good ol' days when Cas didn't understand personal space and boundaries.  Now he certainly does, intent obvious in each remaining centimeter he crosses until his mouth is almost perfectly lined up with Dean's.  Lips ghosting over each other.  No contact, but the very real _possibility_  that makes Dean a little light-headed.

He sits frozen, opens his mouth to question what the hell is happening.  As soon as Dean does, Cas follows suit.  Opens his mouth and exhales smoke.  Dean inhales without a second thought, pulls in Cas' breath and the smoke tingles down into his lungs.  Cas moves away, smug as can be and it takes Dean a moment to notice he didn't cough that time.  

"Yeah yeah, don't get cocky," he mutters, but motions for Cas to do it again.  

Cas helps him through a few more inhales but stops there.  Each time, Dean ~~hopes~~ wonders if their lips will finally touch, even briefly.  He craves the contact, the lifeline Cas could offer him if only he were brave enough to close the distance.  

Because those lips, mmm those beautiful lips.  Chapped but perfectly shaped.  He concentrates intently on them as they move, form different shapes and sometimes let a flash of teeth shine through.  Oh, and watching his tongue darts out to moisten them is perfection.  Dazed, Dean watches and yearns to know those lips better.  Lets himself drift on the sounds but can't for the life of him remember to hear the words.

"Dean?"  

He blinks.

"Dean?"  

His eyes shift out and then back into focus as they move from Cas' lips to his eyes.   "Huh?"

"You haven't heard a goddamn word I've said the last ten minutes, have you?"

"Nuh uh."  

Cas laughs and it's like music.  "You're cute when you're high."

"Pssh, I'm always cute."  He tries for a lop-sided smile, the type of flirty one he used to be master of but that started feeling out of place once the world fell apart.  

"That you are."  And then Cas friggin' _winks_  at him before collapsing backward onto the bed.  

(Cas winking might cause his brain to stutter to a halt.  He recovers in time to stop himself from winking back.)

They talk about random shit.  Dean babbles about all the movies he always wanted to show Cas before movies stopped being a thing.  After he re-tells the same movie plot maybe three times in a row, Cas shushes him and takes over.  Tells him about the beauty of a supernova collapsing in on itself, the majesty of the Grand Canyon being formed, and the small miracle of a bird first learning to take flight.  

Dean hangs off of every word, or doesn't.  Sometimes he lets them fill the space between them, too intent on watching Cas' eyes or tracing the curve of his cheekbones or imagining the feel of his stubble.  The way he talks with his hands is particularly mesmerizing, in part because of the movement but maybe a little because Dean’s fascinated by those long, calloused fingers and blunt nails.

It's all irrelevant nonsense anyway.  The few happy memories left to them that have nothing to do with the world ending around them.  No mention of those that have already fallen, because that would ruin things.  If Dean had the energy to be bitter, he'd think these were stories better forgotten anyway.  No point thinking about what was and never will be again.

But listening to the rhythm of Cas talking is pretty damn good at keeping the negative thoughts at bay.

The whole time, they keep shotgunning.  Cas gets them another joint at some point (Dean for the life of him can't remember when, though he does remember watching the hint of muscle flexing under Cas' billowy clothes as he walked).  Each time that Cas leans in, he carefully keeps his lips hovering less than an inch away from Dean's.  There's never any contact, only the exchange of breath and smoke.

It's driving Dean crazy, breathing Cas in but not getting to taste him.

He feels it like an itch in his skin.  Each time he thinks _this time_.  Feels the goosebumps tingling along his arms as he struggles not to pull Cas in.  

Eventually one of them (Dean doesn't even know which one) leans in that extra bit and kisses the other.  Dean hears a groan and he's not even sure if it came from him or Cas.  He doesn't care, because he's too busy trying to keep up with Cas to be embarrassed.  He lets Cas take the lead, mirrors the movement of his lips and tongue, reveling in the pure bliss that _this is happening.  They're doing this._

Dean Winchester doesn't get nice things, not anymore (maybe not ever), but then there's Cas giving him this moment of happiness in the midst of his own personal hell.

Almost like he's detached from his body, he feels Cas nibbling his bottom lip as he starts to un-do his pants.  Dean barely registers what Cas is doing, struggling to keep up with the kiss and not drown in Cas' musky scent.  Hardly notices when Cas' hand slips under the waistband of his jeans and teases him through his boxers.  

His mind might be a bit behind, but his body is on board.  Dean wasn't even half hard when they started, but Cas coaxes him to full hardness and strokes him expertly.  Using the threadbare fabric of the boxers, Cas teases him without skin ever touching skin.  

Dean stops kissing, distracted by the errant thought that he needs new boxers.  New everything, but he really misses having decent underwear.  The simple comfort of soft cotton against his skin, protecting him from the chafing denim.  Too busy following that tangent, he doesn't track Cas pulling away or slipping down off the bed.  Even as he laments his lack of clothing options, Dean misses Cas striping him of his pants and boxers.  

It's not until he _feels_  Cas' mouth on him, warm and wet around his cock, that Dean looks down and sees Cas giving him head.  

He's not even really focused enough to be surprised.  He does whimper at he sight, though.  He watches without understanding as his hand moves of its own accord.  As it grips Cas' head, the fingers tangling in the long dark strands of hair.  Thinks that he shouldn't thrust up so hard but doesn't know how to stop himself from doing it.  Definitely does his best to hold onto the memory of Cas groaning, lips stretched by his cock.  

"'s nice, Cas."  

Cas just hums in approval and lets him fuck up into that perfect, tight heat until he loses the rhythm and Cas takes over again.

Time seems to stand still.  There's nothing but Cas leisurely blowing Dean and Dean falling apart piece by piece.

He sees but doesn't quite get what Cas is doing when he reaches under the bed.  When he fumbles around (never letting up on Dean's dick, which is definitely appreciated) and smiles in triumph (and fuck if it that isn't the hottest thing Dean's ever seen, Cas smiling around his cock).  

The lid pops open and Dean gets stuck imagining where else Cas stashes lube around here and what else might be hiding out of sight under his bed.  He giggles slightly at the ideas he gets, lube hiding on each shelf and behind the dressers.  Cas the boy scout, always prepared.  The giggling keeps bubbling out of him, wave after wave.  

It screeches to a stop when he finally puts it all together.  Actually sees Cas' pants down around his ankles and his fingers opening himself up as he kneels at Dean's feet.  

Then it gives way to groaning.  He's distinctly impressed that Cas has managed all of this without taking his mouth off of Dean.  That he can somehow swallow around him and suck Dean off like it's job while he's got three fingers moving inside him in earnest.  

That's when Cas pulls off, drool dripping down his chin, and looks up at Dean with blown eyes.  

"Can I fuck you, Dean?"

Dean frowns and asks, "Wouldn't I be doing the uh... the fucking?"  Any other time, that would've come out cockier than it did.  Really, he just sounds confused.

Cas, the smooth fucker, squeezes Dean's thighs and tickles at the hairs there.  "Can I fuck myself _on you_ , Dean?"

He nods, licks his lips before saying, "Go for it."

From whatever mystery storage spot he has hidden under the bed, Cas finds a condom and rolls it onto Dean.  Dean leans back on his elbows to watch.  Watch as Cas' hand strokes him a few times to spread the excess lube.  And then the way he straddles Dean, slides down onto Dean like it's nothing.  

And yeah, maybe he's briefly upset at whoever Cas has done this with before, because his movements are too smooth to be anything but practiced.  Dean wants to punch himself for not being the _first_  one, the _only_  one who's done this with Cas.  But then Cas starts moving and the thought's gone like it'd never been there.

Dean wonders how he got here.  Yeah, there’s how he got saddled with this whole end of the world leadership gig, but that's easy to push off and blame on fate (and maybe his own pigheadedness).  But more specifically how he got _here_ , on Cas' bed with an ex-angel of the lord riding his cock like a champ.  

It's hard and fast, rough in all the ways Dean’s come to like it.  Once upon a time he used to take things slow, but in the frenzy of the half-apocalypse, he lost the taste for gentle.  No time, no motivation, no desire for anything other than getting off and getting back to work.  

Cas is draped over him, bouncing on his cock but still close enough to kiss and bite along Dean’s jaw.  He keens as filthy, filthy words pour out of Cas' mouth. 

"Wanted to ride you for years."

"Feel so good pounding into me."

"Gonna make sure I feel you for _days_."

"You'll look so good with my come on you."

Every word he moans out tickles Dean's ears, more so when Cas stutters and grunts through his release.  His come paints their shirts while the noise of skin on skin fills all the empty spaces of the cabin.  

Once Cas recovers a bit, he slows down.  He shifts back to look Dean in the eye as he keeps riding Dean.  The pace is about a tenth what it was, no longer brutal or dirty but, well, Dean doesn't want to put words to it because he's pretty sure the ones that'll come to mind will terrify him.  As Dean creeps along to orgasm, Cas chants praises into his ear.

"You're so beautiful and strong and wonderful."

"I've never once regretted falling, never once regretted being here with you."

"I'll follow you anywhere, Dean.  Do anything for you.  Knew the moment I pulled you from Hell"

"Let me take care of you."

And fuck, it's that tender ~~lovemaking~~ sex that he thought he lost the chance at ages ago.  Yet here they are, doing it anyway.  He has to close his eyes because the way Cas is looking at him is too intense, too much.  More than he'd ever deserve, honestly.  

Dean comes with a surprised gasp and a whine.

He flops backward onto the bed, completely spent.  He keeps his eyes screwed shut as he rides the aftershocks and falls back down from ecstasy.  He lets Cas press gentle kisses along his face, his neck before sliding off.  Doesn't move as Cas cleans them both up.  No, he keeps his eyes closed because if he opens them right now then that means this happened and it's real and he'll have to deal with it.  

And he's pretty sure dealing with this could break him.

So he does nothing to stop Cas striping off his last few layers and maneuvering him onto a better spot on the bed.  Goes willingly when Cas tugs him under the blankets and wraps himself around him.  Sighs deeply and starts to fall asleep listening to Cas tell him more stories of when he was a juiced up angel who hadn't been stupid enough to get dragged into this shit.  Not yet, anyway.

"This was good, Cas," he whispers as he squeezes Cas' hand.  "We should do it again some time."

Cas freezes for a second, then relaxes.  He gently pats Dean's side with his free hand and says, "Of course, Dean."  Dean can tell when he’s being patronized, but the stories continue and lull Dean under before he can get upset about it.

When he drifts off, he wonders if things will change if the morning or if it'll go back to being the same.  If they really will do this again.  As hard as things have been, he thinks maybe it'd just be _that much_ easier if he shared this with Cas.  Maybe-

"Shh, you're thinking too hard."  The arms around him tighten and a kiss is placed on his temple.  "Just sleep.  I'll watch over you."

Dean shivers, the reminder of years ago not going unnoticed.  Fingers caress his arms, his sides, and he melts into it.  

Yeah, he decides.  They'll do this again.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I did a good job representing Endverse Dean. He's kind of a dick and I don't know if I made him angry or cold enough. But I figured since most of this fic he's with Cas, and he's definitely got a soft spot for Cas, maybe he would be *quite* as brusque as in The End???? Maybe??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
